


mnemosyne

by moonskeep



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, No one did, One Shot, Time Loop, but here i am, definitely not my normal writing style, did someone say ng+ angst?, i think this was written at like 2am, is this coherent? i'm not sure, pretty sure this was inspired by like a word that was stuck in my head, this barely makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonskeep/pseuds/moonskeep
Summary: mnemosyne- greek goddess of memory, mother of the nine musesAkira lives through multiple timelines. None of them are quite the same.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	mnemosyne

**Author's Note:**

> mnemosyne has nothing to really do with this but according to my doc her whole memory thing is what inspired this

They’ve failed to stop Yaldabaoth a few times. 

Each time, they died in different ways. The first time, they all died at once, within each other’s grasps. That was one small mercy. The next, it was only the original four that survived the first blow (then they died, as well). Another time, Akira was the only one left standing as his friends died around him. The god had laughed at him, then, the trickster unable to twist the rigged game. It reveled in his agony before sending him to the same place as before.

One time, Akira accepted Yaldabaoth’s deal. He remembers the look of horror on Lavenza’s face, when she realized the trickster had just become yet another puppet in a game of strings and deceit. That time, Akira had ended his life by slipping up in a palace of yet another target, the seamless blur of metaverse after metaverse and complacency.

Of course, death would not come to take him and he woke up on a train back in 2016. 

Sometimes, not all of the original members joined. Sometimes they died before they could. Each of them, in turn. Sometimes, new people joined instead.

Ryuji had been valiant, but Akira couldn’t shout out to him soon enough. They got to Ann too late. Morgana had been left to die in his cell in the depths of Kamoshida’s palace. Yusuke had been a little too sparing in his meals, too aggressive in the challenge of his mentor. Makoto had endured enough and challenged Kaneshiro alone. Futaba gave in to the distorted memories that haunted her daily. Haru had been a little too bold in exploring her father’s palace with a half awakened persona. 

Mishima had become a thief, once. So did Hifumi. At a rather bizarre point, Sojiro had a persona. 

Sometimes, Akechi stayed with them until the end. Other times, he didn’t join at all, when Akira was a little more cautious with when they used the metanav. Most of the time, though, Akechi still shot Akira through the head and ended up dying in the depths of Shido’s palace. 

Akira told his team about what he remembered, once. It was for the worse— what was the point in fighting if they were just going to die, anyways? The knowledge of the fact that they were trapped in some never ending time loop because Akira kept failing.

Yaldabaoth couldn’t come soon enough, that time.

Here they were. Yaldabaoth’s tower once more, facing the mess of geometrical shapes with a halo of wings that called itself the god of the people. Akira was a bit tired of looking at its unchanging face.

His personas clamored within his soul, conflicting personalities begging for a chance to land a hit on the being. He switched through each one of them, letting them taste the action. His team fought the god right beside him, shouting their defiance to the wind as their magic burned through the air. 

They had lost Akechi again, this time. Metatron was nestled safely among the tangle of personas, a constant reminder. Metatron was one of the ones that had made a permanent fixture on the team, throughout all the resets.

Akira took a breath, releasing another wave of magic. And— oh, that had never happened before. Yaldabaoth creaked, not unlike a rusted appliance. Its limbs hung limply, and all was silent except for the wind and gentle squeaks from the god’s body.

_ You’ve finally done it _ , Arsene rumbled.  _ Now break thy chains, and release thy true rage! _

Akira grabbed the chains rattling around him in the blue fire, felt the flames tickle and burn his hands. And he  _ pulled _ . 

The black chains snapped, loudly. Arsene disappeared. New words, and new power, replaced the gentleman thief.

_ “Satanael,” _ Akira hissed, raising his gun as the behemoth of a persona appeared. His team was gasping in surprise, but the blood rushing in his ears drowned them out. He was very tired of seeing Yaldabaoth’s face.  _ “Pillage him, Satanael!” _

Seeing the creature with a hole through its head was very satisfying. Revenge, for all the times he had seen his friends’ broken bodies lying around him due to its games. For the other wildcard who was victim to its endless ploys. And—

It was April of 2016. Akira Kurusu was riding in a train to Tokyo. Personas no longer settled against his soul, no longer his mask. Ah, well. He’d do better this time.

**Author's Note:**

> is this the first thing i should be officially publishing under my user? who knows


End file.
